


these foolish thoughts

by MidnightBlueMoon



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Consensual Underage Sex, F/M, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Introspection, Secret Relationship, i'm not sure what else to tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-02 01:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14533581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightBlueMoon/pseuds/MidnightBlueMoon
Summary: There is a softness to Harry that makes Mal think of roses and salt.She wants to paint him with colours, wants to spread paint over his body – but she never does. She’s afraid of what it might mean.





	these foolish thoughts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PumpkinKitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinKitten/gifts).



> I watched a video and they mentioned that Harry might have been Mal's first love and I got hooked on the idea. (Pun intended.)  
> Have fun with this mess.

There is something special about Harry.

When he looks at her with those dark eyes, she thinks she can feel the dragon scales ripple under her skin, can feel the magic seeping through her fingers. She knows it’s not real, but her teeth feel sharper on his skin. She feels dangerous in his arms – and unlike every other time, it does not feel wrong.

Harry’s the only one who likes her eyes. Her _true_ eyes. Her mother doesn’t care. Her friends don’t like them – _it reminds me of your mom_ , Evie said once – and everyone else fears them. Mal herself used to hate them. They reminded her of who she was supposed to become, of the life they have stolen from her. It made her think all the legends about dragons being cruel beings were true. Not anymore.

Harry loves her eyes. He even says so. He whispers into her ear how much he loves the slit pupils, the sickening – _beautiful_ , he says – green of them. He loves their glow, tells her while kissing down her neck. He shushes her with his lips on hers, begs her to show him, _just once more, please, Mal_. Harry never begs for anything else – only for this. And Mal can’t deny him anything, so she opens her eyes and looks at Harry with her terrible eyes, with the only magical ability she has on this horrible island. She looks at him and he looks back.

And when he smiles at her, something in her chest feels weird and twisted, the worst kind of dangerous. She never tells him, because on the island your hearts are supposed to be dead.

 

Harry makes her feel like she’s not cursed like her magic isn’t poison that’s slowly killing her, but something powerful, a shield and a sword and a gift.

She knows the other girls look at Harry. Sometimes she takes a step back and tries to see what they see – huge biceps, wide shoulders, hands that can break bones easily. Eyes rimmed with black, highlighting their beautiful colour, glimmering dangerously.

Harry is terrifyingly beautiful. At least that’s what Mal thinks when he walks down a street with a terrible, gorgeous smirk that makes people move out of his way. And he knows it – which is why he uses it to hide his kindness. Kind and pretty, that’s what gets you killed on the island. Everyone here is hungry for a taste of power.

If Mal told anyone Harry Hook was kind, they wouldn’t believe her. But Mal isn’t dumb – she knows Harry acts differently when he’s around her.

Harry has never once left grabbed her too hard or pushed her or anything. She has seen him fight, has seen what kind of punch he packs, but his hands on her skin are never angry. The only marks he leaves are on her collarbones, red prints of teeth on her skin. Mal loves those.

There is a softness in the way he kisses her neck when she’s half asleep. His lips linger on her skin, his hands drift over her arms when she kisses him slowly for once. He’s always awake when she’s opening her eyes after a nap – he never wakes her, waits for her to wake up. And that’s kind of terrifying, too. Mal has never slept as well as she does when she is lying next to Harry.

 

It almost never happens, but _when_ Mal wakes up before Harry does, she takes the time to look at him. His skin is bronze and shimmers like gold, even when the sky is filled with clouds. His hair is messy, but it’s soft and slightly curly and just the perfect length to drag him down to kiss her.

His posture is relaxed when he sleeps, his legs sticking out from under the covers. There is always an arm around Mal or a hand extended towards her as if even in his sleep he knows where she is.

There is a softness to Harry that makes Mal think of roses and salt. Sometimes she drags her fingers across his body, always surprised of how soft his body is, how lax those muscles go underneath her hands. She wants to paint him with colours, wants to spread paint over his body – but she never does. She’s afraid of what it might mean.

His skin is soft like rose petals, even though he works hard. The only proof of that are his hands – they are rough and strong, used to lifting heavy boxes all day long. He can easily lift Mal off her feet and hold her up for a while. It’s used to be a strange feeling, his rough hands on her skin – sometimes Mal thinks in another life, his hands would have been just as soft as the rest of him. But then she catches him looking at the sea and she knows it’s not true.

She likes the muscles of his back most, though. Sometimes she thinks about asking him if she can draw him, catch the way his skin shifts when he moves. She never does – but sketches of him sneak themselves into her sketchbooks, of his face, his body, of the freckles splattered across his collarbone. She hides them away, never shows them to anyone. They only belong to her.

 

What always surprised her is that Harry tastes like salt. He has never been to the sea, like any child of the island – they are surrounded by water, but none of them has ever touched it. But Harry tastes like what Mal thinks the sea must taste like, and the freedom that comes with it. It makes her long for a ship, for waves on her skin. She whispers of those thoughts when Harry kisses her neck. Tells him that she really wants to feel the sea one day and there is something painful and hopeful in Harry’s eyes when he looks up at her.

Mal sometimes thinks about flying when she remembers that Harry was meant for the sea. She used to dream about wings growing out of her back, lifting her up and carrying her away. She imagines the magic flowing through her, the wings strong enough to carry her wherever she wants to go. Kissing Harry is the only thing that ever felt anything like those dreams.

 

(Maybe one day the children will tell a fairy tale about a pirate and his beloved one. Maybe one day the children will tell a fairy tale about a dragon and her beloved one. Maybe one day they’ll rule the sea and the skies and Mal’s skin won’t feel too tight over her bones and Harry’s eyes won’t glaze over when he looks at the sea.)

 

Mal thinks about kissing Harry somewhere else than in dark alleys and hidden rooms, but she never says anything. Sometimes she thinks, she sees it in his eyes, too.

**Author's Note:**

> There might be a chapter two I've half written. I'm not sure if I should finish it.
> 
> Comments are appreciated. ❤️


End file.
